Stavanger Bay I have no home; I make awareness my dwelling.

It has been too long since the beast has set eye upon his master but he trusts, as any mindless thing must trust, that one day they will reunite.
'Seek out my children,' the boom of the master's voice was still so fresh in his ears despite the months abroad. 'Make sure they are honorable to the Cairn bloodline.' 

He did as he was instructed: the coast reached out before him like a glistening path, hugged closely by the black smudge of mountains and the ever present sea. It had taken a number of months, yet had returned to the wilds. The creature was a hulking mass—a homunculi—and his pace was slow but deliberate, forceful, seemingly equipped with an endless resolve. He did not sleep but merely waited; he did not hunt, but ate what he found, and was unafraid of challengers. Due to this lifestyle of tremendous focus Tetsubō had worn away what precious winter fats had clung to his body and replaced it with muscle, but now even the muscle had begun to wear away. With it went his patience, and some level of control. He crashed his way through forests; he bludgeoned mountain paths so that they would accommodate him; he took more risks for meals when such actions were inadvisable; he'd even taken to prowling the fringes of packlands as he came upon them for something to play with, in a sense. Those unfortunate enough to cross his path were privy to a display of his expertise, and he carved a bloody trail along the coast until he came upon familiar territory.

Even in the thick darkness—beneath a cloudy, starless sky—Tetsubō could recognize this place where he once tread. The brine scent was heavy here, the wind merciless as it continued to sweep the clouds inland; he stood over a large pool of trapped seafoam, glowering and sullen, clearly having little patience—it was as if he decided to rest by merely standing in gargoyle fashion upon the beach, and here he would sit and wait for daybreak. He wondered if this was his intended target—if those of the Cairn bloodline resided here, or nearby—and then he wondered, rather spontaneously, if he would follow through with his master's command after all. He had developed a need for bloodshed that was deeper than his usual desire for violence, for use, and as he stood glaring across the pool at his dark reflection, he wondered if he would contain himself this time.

He was not meant to harm the children—Skellige wished for the opposite, and he knew his lord's word was law.
​

(Being hella vague))

The run in with the loners has done a number on her, and it had taken her some time to limp her way back to the territory.  It had been a stupid move, trying to snatch a bite, but Roz found herself stupid often when it came to food and the rise of a challenge.  The rewards were just enough for the risk.

She still had a few deep and open wounds that needed attending, but she'd washed in the ocean and hadn't quite bothered to drop by the new woman yet.  Something about her gave Rosalyn the impression she might know a bit about healing, but as far as she knew, not a one among them had that skill.  Hmm.  Perhaps she needed to go on a recruiting run.

At the moment, it was the borders that needed her.  She wasn't in much fighting shape, but when she saw him on their land, her fur spiked defensively and she lifted her head.  "If you're here sightseeing, sod off.  These here lands are claimed,"  she stopped a few feet away, not aggressively encroaching, but not willing to put up with anything either. "If you wanna sign on, well, start talkin." The fight had left her in a less than charitable mood.  He was a nasty looking bloke who could probably kick her ass, but she could at least hopefully hold her own until she called for backup and her crew was there.

To be alone was a struggle for most wolves that were not assigned to a pack, it was dangerous. For him it was dangerous for others when he was around, and without his master to give him a more direct plan of attack (or leniency) the beast was left to his own devices—this was most likely, the reason why so many had fallen to his dark urges. To be alone was safe. To be alone meant he could attempt some reflection. What would Skellige do?

But he was not alone for long. The swarthy woman's approach was charaterized by weakness, and that alone drew his attention from the pool. He watched her in silence, listened as she spoke to him, but did not comment even after she bade him to. Beneath the scent of the sea was the scent of Cairn upon her—and this had Tetsubo transfixed. The slightest motion of his head was all that she gained from her posturing, until he lurched towards her, closing the distance between them without so much as a flicker of warning. He did not rake his teeth through her flesh as his desire called, though. He lunged with his snout, and began to investigate her scent more thoroughly (whether she was comfortable or not); the metallic scent of blood was there, enticing him, but so too were the wolf-scents.

And there, Cairn. He drew back once this was confirmed.
​

He was silent, and when he suddenly lunged, her pulse spiked and her lip lifted with a warning growl.  She thought for an instant he was attacking, and her instinct hovered on flight... but she stayed, and it turned out he was only taking scents.

"What do you want here?" She asked a bit shortly, taking a step back to open some space between them again.  She had half a mind to call the rest and chase him off, but she'd give another chance.

The female tensed and showed a flash of teeth but he was a man who knew no fear, and so he barely reacted to the defensive response. Had he been a thoughtful sort of creature rather than a machine molded from trauma, perhaps he would have been intrigued by her resolve. She did not strike him or cower, which made her stronger than many of the wolves he had encountered merely for that fact. However, such a thought would never slide through his one track mind.

He had withdrawn from her, heard the question—and this one he answers directly, stern and almost frustrated in his tone. He was meant for more than this, after all. The Cairn, he lowly bellows, breathing the words as if they are composed of thick smoke between his teeth, Where is it?
​

She looked at him somewhat loftily despite her complete physical disarray, knowing if he snapped her life was pretty much forfeit but confident in her pack's strength and her own overall moodiness.  Maybe he was touched, and couldn't speak, like Hex.  Look, another for Smoke's collection.

But no, he did speak.... nonsense.  Her nose wrinkled and her ears tipped back in annoyance.  "The fuck are you on about.  What's a cairn?"  The word didn't gel with her; if she had been told her captain's surname, it was long gone now from her memory.  His true first name and his nickname were all she associated with him, and his sister she only knew by her informal calling as well.

Her answer wasn't enough.

He sucked in a breath as if he were to explain, but did not. Instead he stepped back and stood there, silent, watching, expecting something else from her; those eyes bore in to her with a dulled expression, as if the magic that enlivened the machinations of his body had suddenly departed. He did finally speak, and it was insistent: You are a servant to the Cairn—I am here for it, by order of Skellige.

It was all he would say as explanation, and then suddenly he was moving again—towards her, around her, glancing at the earth and following the tread of her steps across the sand. If she followed he would not be attentive. If she harassed him, Tetsubo knew how to dispose of such an obstacle. A part of him wished she would do something merely for the thrill; he yearned to spill blood this day, and she was ripe with it. But such a kill was hardly noble. To take life from a weakened creature may have satiated some part of his need, but it would not have been enough. Better, then, to save his energy.

The scent of Cairn flowed across the beachfront—he would follow it, and find his target without the aid of the woman.
​

Oh no you don't.

She still didn't quite take his meaning, but when he shoved around, her fur lifted and she immediately called the alarm.  Intruder on the borders.

Then she snarled and dove in, snapping at his legs to try and force him to think twice about his course of action.  She just wished to slow his advance until Smokestep or Raptor or someone could come and assist. If they didn't, this likely wouldn't end well for her.

permission to pp if ya want <3

This time the response was immediate and so was his retaliation. She ran alongside his imposing form and dove in with snapping teeth, but with little response until the teeth grazed his flesh; he felt the sting and was ignited into motion. What transpired was swift and merciless:

A turn of his body to expertly sever her path.

The bludgeon of his neck and skull against her already weak body, connecting with her chest.

Footwork—and then the grapple of his teeth upon her, the snap of his bear-trap jaws without so much as a grunt of effort.

Any further aggression faded as soon as he held her, but with the pressure of his weight he leveraged her against the sand —it was a fluid transition between his hunt along the sandbar and his reaction to her efforts.

Now, holding her roughly in place, she had one chance to reconsider her approach, or he would crush the bones between his teeth and savor her taste without further consideration.
​

He slammed her against the sand as if she were a child, and she cried out briefly as it reopened some the fresh wounds Thuringwethil had laid down.  They bled into the sand, and her breath left in a hiss as she felt his teeth near her throat.  She couldn't move... even struggling to get away would probably bring a swift end.

Her heart hammered as she remained stock still, glaring.  "You can't..." she began, but it was all she got out.  Obviously he could.  Obviously he just had.  And now he would likely finish her off for her defense.  Where the hell was her backup?

The call puts Nox immediately into action. She’s gotten used to trailing the borders without concern, able to push back any unwanted anxiety and do her job. There’s been no sign the brute is coming back for her, using her once then discarding her, and she can eventually return back to normal. The thrill of excitement for a scuffle pushes her harder, exerting energy pent up over the last few days, and making her way to Roz as fast as she can.

She sees the stranger slam her leader into the sand and her fur bristles, lips pee back, and she makes a hurried line toward them. There’s no particular plan in place other than throwing the stranger off guard and removing him from Roz.

He was not aware of the extra body coming to the aid of the woman until it was racing about, and it's teeth snapped at him in an effort to distract or dissuade. The beast had no intention of ending the life of anyone on that beach without probable cause (as unlikely as that seemed from the current state of things); yet with each snap of teeth upon his scruff or bludgeon of the pale body against Tetsubo's own, he tightened his grip little by little. He knew how to play this situation to his own advantage.

This stranger had arrived to defend the woman. If the woman was important, then cutting off her air was detrimental to both her wellfare and the stranger's pursuits. 

A low rumble emanated from the back of his throat though — a frustrated warning — but he did not move from his position above the woman. The beast could take the blows for as long as necessary; he had gone from being an unstoppable force in retaliation to the wolf pinned to the sand, and become an immovable object in the next few moments, biding his time for when the assault would cease. If it did not, then the woman's death could be blamed upon this new arrival upon the beach.

Except that, as the stranger attempted to intercept, behind the scent of the woman's blood Tetsubo thought he could discern the saline notes of Cairn again. This gave him a moment of indecision that felt like it lasted years. The beast was not accustomed to this sensation. There was no way to confirm the scent without extricating himself from this situation and a part of him was loath to do so, hungry as it was for bloodshed. 

In the end, the interloper won. Tetsubo released his grip on the woman and drew back, the gutteral sound of his warning finally taking shape without the body to block his voice. He turns sharply to regard the defensive creature but sees no resemblance to his master, save for that lingering scent. Was this who he had been seeking the past months?

Where is the Cairn? He bellowed as he took a lurching few steps towards Nox. You will take me to it, or I will destroy you and bring glory to my master. His teeth set in a grimace then, and he fixed his citrine gaze upon the wolf as they shifted across the sand, eager to see what choice would be made.
​

After she spoke, his grip tightened around her throat, and she wouldn't have been able to say more regardless.  She couldn't breathe.

The blood rushed in her ears as she glanced over and saw Nox nearby, obviously trying to assist; but the man was unrelenting, bearing down on her until things started to go gray. Panic turned the rushing into a pounding that almost hurt, and she struggled instinctually, despite the bite of teeth into her neck.  The grip only continued to tighten.

Lucky for her, the man reconsidered in time and needed to use his mouth for other purposes. He dropped her just after she faded to black, unconscious but still thankfully alive.  She'd come to in a bit, but no longer posed a threat to his advance on his objective.

feel free to skip me now!

There was a commotion; he could hear it, but his limbs weren’t moving swiftly enough to close the distance between where he had been waded into the water and where the wolves were at his borders. When he did, it was far too late to provide much assistance. All of them he recognized, but there was one in particular that he was shocked to see on the borders of his home – his claim. Roz was in the sand and Nox was bristling near her, both looking to have been protecting their home. His eyes locked with the russet-coated woman on the ground and he stopped breathing for a moment to check the rising and falling of her flank. When he noted that she was still alive, the fur along his neck and shoulders came to life and the young Captain bared his fangs wildly at the wolf he knew to be his father’s protector – a savage guardian composed of slate and charcoal – and snarled.
 
“Tetsubo? Wot the fuck are ye doin’ here?” the pale Cairn inquired with a glowering expression. “Wot the fuck are ye doin’ to me crew, ye right fine scurvy quim?” he cussed openly, angrily, and placed himself protectively over the unconscious First Mate who had fought to defend the borders of the bay. The two tones of his eyes latched onto the Bushido’s and he felt an anger rise in the pit of his stomach. This was his father’s doing… Skellige was the only man who could have sent the dutiful warrior. Where there was anger, fear also scrabbled behind with sickening little claws. If Tetsubo was there, it meant that his father was likely not far behind.

Nox does not notice the strain against the woman, only interesting in dealing blow after blow, pulling at fur, tearing at flesh, doing what she can to distract him long enough to just fucking let go. She won’t admit to getting tired, her stamina not as great as it should be, but somehow she succeeds. Rosalyn drops unceremoniously to the ground and she surges around him, moving to stand over her leader should the other not stop her.
 
“Who tha fuck do’ye—” she’s cut off when Smokestep steps up, growling, then addressing the beast attacking their crew. Her fur bristles high and she shows her teeth, expecting the captain to make his attempt at a charge to get rid of this wolf, but apparently, he’s family. “Ya mean y’know this shitbucket?” she growls lowly at the brute, bracing her feet in the stand should the stranger attack choose to attack again.

The white wolf was a buzzing gnat in the face of an already agitated monster; the beast swung his head away from the abandoned body of the woman and caught his assailant's bites with parries of his own teeth, but he did not target them or cause further damage than what was necessary. The battle was short—Tetsubo had stepped away from the slumbering body upon the sand as he had defended himself, and now turned to regard the oncoming pale flash that came to intercept. Another challenger? His purpose had been outlined to both previous wolves, and his patience was nearing a limit.

But this newcomer was, shockingly, familiar. The voice tore across the sand and upon hearing it, Tetsubo's actions lurched and lulled, and he pivoted to regard Smokestep as if no harm had been done, like nothing had ever happened. When Nox spoke there wasn't even a tremble of an ear to indicate Tetsubo heard them. He had found his Cairn, and so he could move on.

The master sends me to you, Cairn, so I may serve. He states this factually, mechanically, as if it is the most obvious of things—and truly there is no reason for Tetsubo to leave his master's side for any reason except for a direct order. He elucidates a moment later with a bow to his massive head, I am to be bushido to you, as is ordered. He resumed his hulking posture after that point and fixed his dulled gaze upon the boy expectantly. There was no room for compromise.
​

i kno java asked to be put on ppc but i saw mention that she might have time to post this week so i am tossing up a reply here in hopes that this can get moved along and closed in a few more posts

The confusion swelled inside of him as Tetsubo closed the distance between them and mumbled something in the way he had always spoken – at least to Smokestep – and left the yearling standing with an overwhelming sense of dread that would not leave no matter how he seemed to shake it. If it weren’t for Nox barking out a question, the Captain would have been a deer in the headlights for far too long. He snapped his attention to the pale female and breathed a heavy sigh that seemed to deflate him a few notches. “Aye, I know ‘im,” he answered her with a furrowed brow and an expression that bled his discomfort with the situation. “This crusty barnacle is a… er… he’s bushy-dough to me father,” Smokestep then elaborated as well as he could, though he made a fair butchering of the title that Tetsubo had so diligently taken.
 
Then, his mismatched gaze sought out the slate warrior’s and he flattened his ears to his crown. The yearling breathed deeply to steady himself, but he could feel the earth fading from his view. If his father had sent his most trusted guardian, Smokestep didn’t know what kind of a scrutiny he would be under. He also did not know how far away the leviathan was. “’Subo… where’s me dad? Did he travel wit ye?” All while his mentality seemed to crumble away at the idea of Skellige being so close to the bay, Smokestep stood guard over the unconscious Roz, and made sure that the peculiar warrior could not do her any further harm.

There was silence, and then questions. Tetsubo paid the others little heed as the Cairne came to an understanding, and then when he voiced his own queries the gargoyle deigned to answer; he took a laborious breath and uttered a simple explanation: I went on ahead. I do not know where the elder Cairne is. That was a satisfactory explanation to the warrior — but he watched the pale pirate for any reason to correct himself or give further information. It did not seem pertinent to mention that Skellige had his own plans, for it was not the bushido's place to divulge such things or make assumptions. 
​

Smokestep's last post.

Flustered, Smokestep regarded the male he knew little about with a pointed stare that lasted far longer than it should have. His eyes roamed the figure of the Bushido with interest and a modicum of fear for the prospect that he brought to the edges of the Ironsea territory. It was not what he had imagined. An unwanted gift from his father that had already caused a great deal of trouble and had cast his First Mate to the earth without so much as a second thought. The young Captain knew enough to be aware that the grizzled slate warrior would not likely take no for an answer. With an exaggerated sigh, the Cairn boy tossed his muzzle toward the pack as though he had reached a moment of resolve.
 
“Right ye best not be roughin’ me crew up, or yer gonna go right back to me pa,” the pirate warned. It was not as though he believed that the Bushido would be bested in a test of physicality, but that he would listen to the parameters that were set out for him. For all that Tetsubo was, he was a brilliant fighter and an excellent resource, but he took his orders and he followed them closely. It was all that he had learned growing up with the slate brute at his father’s side. “An’ when she’s back up, ye best give ‘er an apology, right? She wos protectin’ this land, Subo. She don’t deserve the manhandlin’,” he then added, motioning toward Roz with a worried expression. Not wanting to allow the male to linger for much longer, Smokestep motioned for the warrior to follow him into the bay and find a place to make his home.